The Thin Line Between Obsessed and Crazy
by CupcakeSprinkles14
Summary: On the 14th of March 2009, Cato Hadley was placed under arrest for trafficking drugs and being part of the notorious Career Gang. He had been under suspicion but the deal was sealed when Cato's boyfriend, Peeta Mellark, reported him to the police for his crimes. Five years later, still hung up on his boyfriend but still angry with him for betraying him, Cato wants revenge.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So guys, The Thin Line won the story poll! Thanks to everyone who voted! If you want to see the full results, they're posted up on my profile below the music inspiration section. They will be written in the order they are given in the result list :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

**Warnings: Criminal/Dark/Angry/Jealous!Cato**

**The Thin Line Between Obsessed and Crazy**

**Chapter One**

The Career Gang were notorious for ruining the lives of many. They sold drugs, stole from banks and major coporations, they kidnapped people, tortured them, even murdered some. They were wanted across the country but never got caught. Of course, people were suspected to be a part of it, but a lack of sufficent evidence tripped the authorities up every time.

Peeta had met Cato at the cafe where Peeta worked. They had a very intimate relationship and were very close to each other. Throughout the relationship, Peeta had never thought to suspect that Cato had ever been up to anything. He had always been very good at hiding it. They had a policy to never lie to each other, to trust each other always. So Peeta had no reason to believe that Cato was hiding anything anyway.

It wasn't that Cato was abusive . . . He just had a really short temper. Peeta had a couple of bruises from times he had accidentally gotten in his partner's path at the wrong time, but he never considered himself an abuse victim. Anyway, Cato always said sorry for what he had done. And Peeta knew he didn't mean it, so he always forgave him.

One day Cato brought a friend home. He had always brought friends round so Peeta didn't think much at first. But this person was someone Peeta had seen before. Her name was Glimmer Sparkles, and Peeta had immediately recognized her as one of the suspected members of the Career Gang. When he confronted Cato about this, his partner had feigned ignorance, and Peeta had been naive enough to believe him. Why would he lie? They promised to tell each other the truth.

But then a couple of weeks later, Peeta had been searching for his glasses when he stumbled upon a packet of tablets. He wasn't an expert on drugs or medication, but they looked very similar to what the kids called 'Molly'. He was horrified as the realization dawned on him that Cato was hiding drugs in the house. If Cato hadn't told him about the drugs and how he was keeping them in the house, what else was he hiding from him?

When he called the police, Peeta hadn't realized what he was really doing. He hadn't realized that Cato was going to get arrested for the posession of drugs. But once it had happened, he knew he had to follow it through. It hurt, but Peeta knew it had to be done. He had been raised on good morals and he couldn't act like he didn't know that Cato was taking part in illegal activties.

The police had taken him in for an official statement and during that interview, Peeta accidentally mentioned Glimmer and his discovery of the drugs a little while after she appeared in the house. This was enough for the authorities to go on and both Cato and Glimmer were arrested for the posession and, later, trafficking of drugs. It all fell apart after that, like dominios falling after the tiniest push. Both Cato and Glimmer confessed to be members of the Career Gang, having been part of it for years, ever since they were kids, and this just confirmed their arrest.

For weeks after the arrest, Peeta dwelled in their house, unable to believe how horrible he had been. He had betrayed Cato in the worst possible way. He felt awful twenty four seven, the knowledge that Cato probably hated his guts killing him. The guilt slowly ate him up inside to the point that he never left the house and his best friend Madge had to force him outside.

Eventually Madge's positive reinforcement helped coax Peeta out of his depressive state. She told him that he did the right thing, that he did what he had to do. Peeta was a key witness to Cato and Glimmer's perdicament and the police needed him to come to the court hearing and testify to the jury everything he'd seen and heard. Which he would never have done in a million years if it hadn't been for Madge.

Only once did Peeta dare to look at Cato during the court hearing. And in that moment he saw a look he knew he would never forget. After that moment he chose to not look at Cato throughout, becaue he was too scared to. He couldn't bear the burden of his ex's gaze.

When the sentence was announced and Cato was found guilty, the criminal had given Peeta a sly wink as he was dragged out, a gesture that was known from then on as 'The Hadley Farewell' in local media. Peeta didn't think of it as a farewell. He thought of it as a promise. But a promise of what he didn't know.

Once Cato was inprisoned, Peeta slowly built his life back up, the pieces began to slide into place again.

He forgot all about the wink.

_**Five Years Later:**_

"Aren't you worried?"

Peeta frowned at the sun, shielding his eyes from it's unforgiving glare with his hand. He loved it when the sun was out. It made even the most depressing of environments look more upbeat and chirpy. Madge was beside him, sitting in the grass in a much more tense position. "No, I'm not worried." He glanced away from the sun and smiled at her. "I have no reason to be worried."

Madge shook her head as if she couldn't understand how he could be so calm. "I can't believe you're so okay with this," she said. "Do you _know_ what parole is? _Do_ you?"

"Of course I know," Peeta sighed. He sat up and raised his eyebrows. "But I'm not worried. Do you know what a restraining order is? Do you?" Madge didn't appreciate him mimicking her and scowled, folding her arms and turning away from him. "Madge, please, don't get hung up on this. You're more hung up than me. Don't get worked up, please, it's going to be okay."

"You don't know that," Madge muttered.

"Yes, I do," Peeta insisted. He touched Madge's shoulder and made her turn to face him again. She reluctantly let her eyes meet his. Peeta hated how much she worried about him. She had a tendancy to hang onto things, for them to press on her mind for months on end. Madge had been hanging onto this particular things for two months, ever since the parole hearing had been confirmed.

"I just can't understand how they granted him parole so easily," Madge insisted. "I don't understand how they can be so thick as to think that he won't re-offend."

Peeta looked at the grass, which bristled and swayed in the wind. "He's not an idiot. He's lucky to be released," he said quietly. "He won't re-offend. He won't be stupid enough to risk going back to prison when he has been given an opportunity to start again. I'm sure the parole board saw this."

"Peeta, he's a violent nutjob. What if he comes after you? It's your statement that sealed the deal, the reason he was in prison in the first place!" Madge exclaimed. "What if he's been stewing in his cell, coming up with ways to get back at you?! Did you _see_ his face in the court room that day? The day that you testified?"

Seen it? Peeta hadn't been able to get rid of it ever since he saw it five years ago. That look of betrayal and anger mixed into the ultimate scowl.

"Did you see what he did when they announced his sentence?"

"Madge, stop," Peeta said, shutting his eyes as he felt a headache come on. Madge sighed and shook her head. Peeta knew she hadn't meant to push, but he really didn't want to think about any of that anymore. It happened five years ago, it was behind him. He didn't want to remember, even if parole had been granted.

"I'm sorry," Madge said. "I'm just so, so worried about you. I'm very scared, and I wasn't even involved in all this until I realized you weren't leaving the house . . ."

Peeta nudged her with his elbow. "Hey, it's okay," he said. "There's the restraining order, the warning that if he breaks it, he'll be arrested again. Don't worry about the 'Hadley Farewell'-" he said this word with a sarcastic hand gesture-"because it was just Cato trying to have the last word. He was just trying to scare us."

"Yeah, well, it worked," Madge muttered.

Peeta sighed. "Don't let him win, Madge. We can't let him win."

Madge nodded and smiled weakly, a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Peeta knew that she wanted to believe him but couldn't bring herself to.

Honestly, Peeta didn't really believe himself.

~xXx~

The day Cato was released from prison, Peeta focused on his work. He worked all shifts and didn't give himself enough time to think about anything other than his job. The people who worked with him gave him the space he needed, understanding that today wasn't going to be a good day for him. The parole confirmation was all over the news, which always played on the t.v in the corner of the cafe.

Only once did his work-all-day facade broke. And that was when the footage of Cato being released was on the t.v. Peeta had paused, unable to stop himself from watching.

Cato looked exactly the same. Same blond hair, green eyes, strong build-or did he look bigger than he had before?-even the way he carried himself was the same. Confident with a hint of arrogance. The sight of him on the other side of the prison gates was so alien and too much for Peeta to handle. Delly had been working the till at the time and, noticing him watching, switched the telly over to a different channel and suggested he take his break.

Peeta wasn't going to lie, it was a hard day, and he was glad when it was over and he could go home.

His car was parked in a multi-storey complex that was just a couple of streets away from the cafe. Peeta always used the walk there to sort through his thoughts but all he could think as he made his way to the complex was Cato. He couldn't help thinking that he was free, he was walking these very streets now, that even though there was the restraining order, there was still an angry criminal out there who held a certain level of personal animosity towards him.

What if Madge was right to worry? What if her concerns were valid? What if Cato wasn't as clever as Peeta had given him credit for and would risk prison just to get his own back?

Peeta shook his head. He couldn't think like this. He had to stay positive and had to keep his spirits lifted. Look on the bright side. Think of the glass being half full, not half empty. Every cloud has a silver lining. Peeta continued to rack his mind for as many motivational phrases he could think of as he made his way back to his car.

The one thing that put him off driving home was the fact that Cato bought him that car for his birthday. Peeta had never thought about where he had gotten the money for it before until he was exposed as being part of the Career Gang. How many of the gifts he had given him the past had been bought with dirty money? Money he earned from lying and stealing and breaking the law? They were like pieces of Cato that had been left behind when he went to prison. Peeta had been meaning to sell the car over the past five years but a part of him was still in love with Cato and he couldn't get rid of the car because of that.

But still, he lived ten miles away, out in the countryside. He had to drive the car.

One of his habits that had developed after the arrest five years ago was that Peeta always locked his car when he got into it. He felt exposed with the doors unlocked, welcoming anyone in with a tug on the handle. Today was no different and when he climbed in, he pushed the button on the dashboard that locked the entire car. This always made him feel more at ease and he relaxed into the seat with a sigh, glad that the day was nearly over.

_Click._

Peeta froze. He was no expert but he knew the sound of a gun being cocked when he heard it. To confirm his suspicion, a nozzle was pressed against the nape of his neck, the cool metal sending a shiver down his spine. His immediate instinct was to run but as soon as he lurched towards the door, a hand came around from the back seat and pressed against his mouth, pulling his head against the back of the seat and pinning him in place.

His attacker leaned forward so his lips brushed his captive's ear as he spoke. "Try anything and I will blow your brains out, _baby_," he purred.

Every hair on his body stood up in fear, his blood booming in his ears. It wasn't him, it couldn't be possible. He wouldn't break the restraining order, he wasn't idiotic enough to risk arrest again. Peeta fearfully glanced up at the rearview mirror and was met by a set of bright green eyes and an evil smirk in the reflective glass. His heart nearly exploded in his chest.

Cato had come back for him.

**A/N: Soooo, that's the first chapter. Review with your thoughts! If I'm honest, I don't think this is my best work but still, I hope you guys liked it? Let me know! :)**

**Again, thank you for voting in the poll! (:**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Wow, this story has had an amazing response! I'm glad you guys enjoyed the first chapter! :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

**Warnings: Jealous/Dark/Angry/Phsychotic!Cato, non-conseual touching, hints at future voilence, dark ideas, hints of future disturbing happenings, and hints of future molesation/rape. Yup, not everyone's cup of tea, this one . . . YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!**

**Chapter Two**

Peeta watched Cato's every move in the rear view mirror, unable to believe that his ex was actually stupid enough to risk arrest by coming after him. He should have listened to Madge, he should have worried, he should have taken more precautions to look after himself. Why did he always have to think the better of Cato when it was clear that when it came to him, it always involved the worst?

Cato was so close that Peeta could feel every breath brush against his skin. He tried to hide his fear, fought to not let it show. If Cato didn't see that he was scared, then he didn't know that he was affecting him. A small part of Peeta knew that he already knew. Cato knew him inside out, he could tell when he was afraid.

"Did you really think I wouldn't look for you?" Cato's voice was stuffed with self-satisfactation. Peeta didn't want to show anything on his face, so he didn't give away that he _did_ think that Cato wouldn't look for him. His heart pounded, each beat punching his chest like a fist. "I didn't think I'd find you this quickly but I had an idea that you'd still be working in the cafe."

Peeta grappled with the hand over his mouth, trying to pry it off. It was useless, Cato was too strong, his hand unmovable, but he kept trying. He was aware of the gun against his neck the entire time but he knew Cato wouldn't shoot him. Then again, what he thought he knew about Cato had been lies up to this point.

He had only been freed a few hours ago, how the hell did he get his hands on a gun anyway?

"It's a revolver," Cato said, as if being able to read Peeta's thoughts. "Clove arranged for it to be left under a bush a few miles away from the prison." Clove? Who the heck was Clove? "I could pull the trigger right now and two things could happen." The nozzle of the gun pressed harder against his neck and Peeta winced, terrified by the thought that all Cato had to do was push a trigger and he'd be a goner.

"Number one thing that could happen," Cato all but purred. "I could pull the trigger and shoot you and you could die instantly._ Or_ I could pull the trigger and the bullet could cause severe damage to your spine and you could be paralysed for the rest of your life."

Neither options sounded very nice.

Peeta contemplated biting Cato's hand. Would he shoot him for that? Would it be worth the risk?

"I've only been out of prison for, what? Four, five hours?" Cato asked, sounding almost like he wanted to strike up a friendly chat. "And I've already discovered _so _much. The whole Hadley Farewell thing is very intriguing. They thought I was saying goodbye to you, how cute." His voice dropped to a husky whisper as he said, "When in the truth I was promising to see you soon."

_That's_ what he was saying?! That was even more unsettling than all the other conspiraracy theories.

The nozzle of the gun suddenly disappeared. "This is quite uncomfortable, isn't it? I think we should move to a more comfortable location, don't you?"

Not particulary, no.

Cato moved his hand and Peeta gasped, glad to be able to breathe through his mouth again. The relief was short lived though as a cloth was then pressed against his mouth, chemical fumes filling his senses and making him feel drowsy. No, he couldn't get knocked out. Who knew where Cato would take him if he went unconcious!

With one last burst of strength, Peeta struggled against Cato's grasp. His ex just pressed the cloth harder against his mouth and the gun returned to his neck but he didn't care. He tried to reach the door handle, stretching for all he was worth. His fingertips skimmed the handle three times during the struggle and he groaned in frustration, feeling completely helpless. His vision began to blurr and darken at the edges.

No, no, no, this wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. It had to be a dream. More like a nightmare. He was going to wake up soon. He had to.

The world went dark and Peeta blacked out.

~xXx~

The world was hazy but felt nice. Everything felt very nebulous but secure, reassuring and comforting. Peeta felt himself drifting in and out of consciousness, his head dipping and snapping up. He couldn't move a muscle, his body rigid and tired. A small part of him knew he should be worried by this but he wasn't. Why should he be worried? Everything was so assuaging and appeasing. There was no reason to be worried about anything.

Something was tickling his neck. He felt a giggle bubble up at the back of his throat and it slipped out before he could stop it. He wanted to bat the source away but his arms wouldn't respond. Oh well, it felt nice anyway. His head fell back drowsily, and he almost lost consciousness again.

But it all came back like a bag of bricks being dropped on him.

Peeta forced his eyes open and snapped his head up. He blinked back the sleep in his eyes rapidly, clearing his vision as quickly as possible. He did a quick inventory. Ropes, ropes? Yeah, there were ropes tied tightly around his forearms, binding him to the arms of a wooden chair. His legs weren't bound so he used the small piece of freedom to lash out and struggle.

Damn it, he was tied tight. He couldn't _move_! Well, he could move but not enough to do him any good. His feet slid uselessly against the floor, thanks to the lack of grip on the soles of his sneakers, and all he could achieve was making a fool out of himself and looking like a fish flopping around, trying to get back into water.

An arm came around his neck, holding tight enough to squeeze the air out of his lungs. Peeta gasped, coughing and choking as the oxygen in his system thinned out. Was this the end? Was this the end _already?_ Had Cato always been planning to just kill him for revenge?

"Sssh," a sinister voice whispered behind him. Cato. Oh god, it was Cato. Peeta tried to keep his composure but the inability to breathe was holding him back. "Calm down, baby. Sssh."

"C-c-c-can't b-b-br-breathe."

"I'll let you go as long as you promise to stop struggling." Cato kissed his temple, in what was probably supposed to be a soothing gesture. Peeta recoiled, disgusted, and jerked his head away from Cato's mouth. "Aw, don't be like that babe."

"L-let me go!"

"Oh, I don't think so, we have a lot of catching up to do." The arm loosened but the tingly sensation returned to his neck and Peeta realized with repulse that it was Cato kissing him. His ex still remembered all of the sensitive parts of his neck and Peeta had to bite his lip hard to stop himself from making some embarrasing noises he wouldn't be proud of. It didn't seem like the time or the place to start moaning like an idiot.

"Stop it," Peeta snapped. He squirmed in discomfort, clenching the arms of the chair tight in his hands, wishing that he could be anywhere but this situation. "Cato, please, you don't have to do any of this. If you let me go now then you can still get away and not risk getting arrested again."

"Why?" Cato asked. He bit his captive's ear and tugged just hard enough for it to hurt. "Are you planning on calling the police on me again?"

"Please don't." Peeta could already feel that shitty feeling coming back, the same thing he felt when Cato was sentenced all those years ago. He didn't need to know how much he'd betrayed his ex, he knew all too well. "I'm, I'm sorry about that b-but I had to do the right thing."

"Oh, I know, of course you did." Cato let his arm fall away and pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck. Peeta refused to let him melt him. He always did it when they were together and when he did something wrong. Always tried to distract him with sexual favours and intercourse and if he tried to bring it up later, the whole process would get repeated. Well they weren't together anymore and Peeta wasn't going to subcumb.

"Then why do this to me?" Peeta asked.

"I hadn't realized that your good morals reached the extent of betraying the people you loved just to abide the law," Cato answered. "But it's okay, those five years in prison gave me a lot of thinking time."

Peeta swallowed the lump in his throat anxiously. "What did you think about?"

"You mainly," Cato purred. He ran his hand along Peeta's jaw and turned his face toward him. Peeta tried to rip his face away but Cato was too strong. "At first I was very, very mad at you. I started formulating plans of revenge. But then I actually started to miss you, weirdly enough."

"Miss me?"

Cato nodded. "For the first two years I imagined killing you, in the bloodiest, most violent ways possible. It was difficult, because I still loved you very much, as I do now, and I eventually realized that I didn't have to kill you."

Oh thank God, he didn't have to kill him. He wasn't going to kill him. Peeta almost sighed in relief, despite the fact that he was still strapped to a chair with his very angry ex who had just been released from prisoner taunting him. Cato noticed this and chuckled.

"I realized that I just needed to make you part of the life I had hidden from you," he explained.

"Wait, do you mean life as a _career_?!" Peeta exclaimed. "I don't want to be a career!"

Cato laughed and kissed him gently. Peeta almost forgot himself in the kiss, unable to resist the familiar feeling of Cato's lips against his. "Oh babe, you just think that, but once you adjust to our ways you'll realize how enjoyable it really is," he said. "When not working, every day's a party. Involving a lot of-" he dragged his mouth up to Peeta's ear and whispered in a low voice-"_sexual intimacy._"

"Yeah, because that was always your greatest weapon wasn't it?" Peeta muttered, leaning away from him. "You know there's more to life than just fucking, right?"

"Have you been locked in a prison for five months? Do you realize how frustrating it is to be surrounded by people not even attractive enough to have a quickie with?" Cato demanded. "If it hadn't been for my right hand and memories from when you and I were adventurous then I would have came out of that prison carrying my junk in a wheelbarrow."

Peeta cringed. "Do you have to be so crude?" he asked, disgusted.

Cato finally moved around to the front of the chair so Peeta could see him properly. This wasn't as much a good thing as it was possible that he might be able to do that thing with eyes that always forced Peeta to forgive him. He hated how tall his ex was because his stature made Peeta feel very vulnerable as he squirmed in the seat, trying to loosen the ropes around his arms.

"Question, had you been with anyone when I was in prison?" Cato asked. "Did you have relationships with anyone?"

"Is that important?" Peeta snapped. He wasn't keen on telling Cato that he couldn't be with anyone in that way when he was in prison. He knew that all he would do was compare them to Cato, which wouldn't be fair on anyone.

"Yes, actually, it is." Cato started pacing and Peeta's heart rattled when he saw the revolver sticking out of the backpocket of his jeans. His stomach churned and he felt like he was going to be sick. "So come on, answer the question, tell me who you've been with so I can tell Clove who she has to knock off."

"Knock . . . off? Look, I haven't been with anyone, I swear," Peeta quickly said. "You don't have to knock anyone off."

Cato pouted. "Aw, were you saving yourself for my release?" he asked in a patronizing voice. Peeta scowled, making his captor laugh. "Are you trying to tell me that you've been sexless for five years now?"

Peeta flushed in embarrassment, hating how much Cato was loving this. "Yeah, and? The world doesn't revolve around having sex," he said sheepishly. "I'm not a dirty, sex hungry monster like you."

"Oh really, huh?" Cato fell to his knees so his face was level with Peeta's. Not liking how close their faces were, Peeta tried to push the chair back so he could get away. Cato simply grinned evilly and grabbed his legs, tugging them to pull him back. "You may not be a sex hungry monster but I know for sure that you're dirty."

Peeta glared and looked away, refusing to give Cato the satisfaction of looking him in the eyes. Cato was very perceptive and could pick up fear a mile off and Peeta was positive that his eyes were screaming of it. He couldn't let Cato know he was scared.

Persistant as ever, Cato leaned forward and pressed his body against Peeta's. He let his lips tickle his prisoner's ear as he murmred, "I bet you still touch yourself at night when you're in bed." Peeta winced and shut his eyes, trying not to let anything leak through. How could Cato still remember that did that after five years?!

"No, I don't!" he spluttered unconvincingly.

"Oh baby, I know you do," Cato replied. He cupped Peeta's face in his hands and pressed their foreheads together. "But you don't have to anymore because I'm back for good now."

"Wait, are you saying . . ." Peeta trailed off, his face dropping in horror. "I'm not having sex with you Cato! We can't just pick up where we left off as if nothing has happened!"

"We can and we will," Cato bit back, almost angrily. "I need to show everyone that you belong to me."

"Don't . . . don't you mean belong _with_ you?" Peeta asked weakly, hoping what Cato had just said was just a _faux pas._

Cato laughed. "No, I was right the first time," he answered.

Peeta had been afraid of that. "What do you mean everyone? If anyone sees you within spitting distance of me you're going to be slung back into prison," he said. He was trying to be strong but his trembling voice was a dead give away of his scaredy cat nature. Things were starting to get intense and possessive and he didn't where it was going.

"I mean my friends back at headquarters," Cato explained.

"Friends?"

"The other careers."

"Why would they care?"

"Glimmer certainly does. She wants to rip your fingernails off one by one for getting her put into jail for so long," Cato answered. "Which she is capable of doing, by the way. I think she will enjoy inciating you the most."

"Incitating me?"

"Well, yeah, you can't just enter Career headquaters willy nilly, you need to show you're dedicated to the job," Cato explained. Had his eyes darkened or was it just Peeta's own eyes playing tricks on him? "But since you obviously won't be keen at the beginning, there's a whole process you have to go through before you can go in. Something that most definitely _will_ happen again if you squeal to anyone about anything you see. And Glimmer's logic is that we have to do something hardcore, since you did rat us out before, which is reasonable enough."

"H-hardcore?" Even the word sounded repulsive.

"That involves things as physically painful as being beaten with spiked bats to being gang banged by other members of the group," Cato clarified.

Peeta felt like he was going to be sick. "Oh Cato," he said sadly, "why the hell would you become involved with such disgusting people? Have you actually done any of that to anyone?"

Cato shrugged. "I've beaten snitches. Not with the spiked bats, sadly."

_Sadly?!_

"And you think it's okay to hurt people like that?" Peeta asked.

"If they double cross us, then yeah," Cato replied. Peeta shook his head, physically unable to comprehend how he hadn't noticed that there was such a bloodthirsy, phychotic, unstable man hiding underneath his ex's calm facade.

As if noticing Peeta's distress, Cato kissed his cheek, letting his lips linger on his skin. It was a gentle gesture, something he used to do when they were together, that took his captive off guard. Peeta blinked, staring at Cato in surprise, thinking that there was maybe some of his loving boyfriend still there, trapped in the mind of this maniac.

The moment was ruined when Cato grinned maliciously and said in a husky purr, "Don't worry, I won't let them touch you below the belt. That's _my_ territory." His hand gripped Peeta's belt, the tips of his fingers sliding beneath his jeans to skim underneath it.

Peeta's gasp was swallowed by a rough kiss along with any further protests.

**A/N: Next chapter we meet the Careers! I think you can already tell what sort of people they're going to be and how one particular member *cough* *cough* **_**Glimmer**_** *cough* *cough* is going to treat Peeta. These guys are the basic equalivelent to the Mafia, in this universe.**

**Oh! By the way, keep an eye out later because I'm going to be posting a one-shot to celebrate Easter! Even if you don't celebrate the holiday, consider it a treat. I was going to post it up now but it's 12:05 in the morning and I really should be getting some sleep. Nightio! :D**

**Please R&R with your thoughts!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Warnings: Tattooing, crude-ish language, and hints of furture torture and sadistic happenings.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

**Chapter Three**

Peeta made a big deal out of being difficult. When Cato untied him from the chair and cuffed his hands behind his back, Peeta purposely refused to get up and walk when he was told to. He thought he could get on Cato's nerves but all his ex did was grin and pick him up, carrying him to the car over his shoulder like a sack of spuds.

He was surprised when Cato drove the car right into the heart of the town, parking in a community car park where people milled around, going about their daily business. Peeta looked around in bewilderment, flexing his hands as he began to lose the feeling in them. "Why did you take me here?" he asked. "Your face has been all over the news, what if they recognize you? They'd probably recognize me as well!"

"Relax," Cato replied. He unbuckled Peeta's seatbelt and clicked open the handcuffs. Peeta rubbed his wrists and looked at his ex dubiously. What game was he playing? "Don't get ahead of yourself, I'm not letting you go. I just can't get out of the car with you handcuffed beside me. It would look suspicious."

"I think we're going to look suspicious no matter what," Peeta muttered. He glanced out the window, at the the people wandering around in the streets, with nothing to hinder or worry them. It was a nice evening, the sky still bright while the sun set, rays of sunlight streaking through the fluffy clouds. "Where are we even going?"

Cato got out of the car and Peeta stuck to his difficult attitude by staying in the passenger's seat and not even trying to get out. It didn't matter anyway because Cato simply opened the door and dragged him out by his elbow. Peeta looked around, searching for a possible escape opportunity. As if reading his mind, Cato tugged him against his body and whispered into his ear, "If you dare escape, you will pay twice as much when I catch you."

"Who says you'd catch me?" Peeta demanded petulantly. He tried to wrench his arm out of Cato's hold but he held fast, dragging him across the road to where a line of shops was located. Peeta contemplated yelling for help, but knew that it wouldn't help in the long run, Cato probably already had something planned for if that happened.

Cato laughed. "Oh, that's sweet," he said. His patronizing tone irked Peeta and his blood boiled. He ripped his arm away but Cato had quicker reflexes and wound his arm around his captive's back to hold him tighter. Peeta didn't bother struggling because he could already tell from Cato's iron grip that it would be fruitless.

A couple of minutes later, he was pushed into a small shop that was wedged between two bigger buildings. Peeta immediately picked up on the dark vibe of the store and immediately didn't like it. The interior was gloomy, the lights dimmed, and extremely cramped. Colourful, pyschedelic clothes hung from racks and hooks. Class cases exhibited jewellery and accessories, every piece having a satanic feel.

Only two people were currently in the store; a guy with stringy ginger hair and bad acne checking out the poster stand and a girl whose hair was dark, except for the bright blue of the two knotted buns ontop of her head, who was running her finger along the intricate patterns on a necklace with a locket in the shape of a pentagram. Then, of course, there was the guy with dark blond hair who sat behind the glass case, probably minding the till.

Peeta tried to back up but he immediately bumped into Cato, who grabbed his arms and cuffed his wrists together again. Something told him that in a place like this one, seeing someone handcuffed wasn't a foreign sight. Cato pushed him further into the shop and stopped at the till. "Hey Gloss, how have you been?"

The man by the glass case's face lit up. "Cato, you bastard, where have you been?!" he exclaimed. "I thought you said you were coming back as soon as you were released?"

"I had a couple of things to do first," Cato explained.

Gloss nodded in understanding. "Ah, is this the infamous ex you were talking about?" he asked, his gaze drifting lazily to Peeta. He quirked an eyebrow. "Prettier than you described."

"Yeah, I know, not enough words," Cato replied. Peeta scowled and took a step away from him, only to be tugged back.

"Anyway, you know the drill, what's the password?" Gloss asked. The girl with the blue knotted buns appeared by the till, not even sparing the them a second glance. She looked at Gloss and slid a wad of notes across the glass case. Gloss took the money and slid a white packet back to her. The girl took the packet and left without another word.

"RE578ER912AC304," Cato recited. Peeta looked at him incredulously. How could he remember that off by heart?

Gloss grinned. "Knew you wouldn't forget it," he said. "Go on up, they've been wondering where you are."

"Thanks."

Cato grabbed Peeta's arm and dragged him off to the back of the shop. He pushed away some t-shirts to reveal a door with flames painted onto it. Behind it was a thin corridor with stairs leading up. Peeta became apprehensive over what was up there and tried to push back against Cato, prefering to stay where they were over going up there.

"Will you stop being difficult for five minutes?" Cato sighed.

"I already did, when you were driving here," Peeta replied. Cato gave him a strong shove and he yelped, stumbling onto the stairs. He couldn't protect his face because of his cuffed hands and hit the steps full on. "Ow," he groaned. "Cato, whyyy?"

"Enough with the attitude," Cato chuckled. He grabbed the back of Peeta's shirt and dragged him back up to stand. Peeta winced, the entire right side of his face on fire. Cato grabbed his jaw and turned his face around to examine the damage. "No bruising, you'll survive."

"Still hurts," Peeta complained. It really didn't hurt that much, he was just continuing to be problematic to get on Cato's nerves.

Cato pushed him up the stairs, giving him a practical push every time he slowed down even the slightest of bits. Once they reached the top, Cato pounded on the door and yelled, "Let me in assholes!"

"Cato?!" A voice on the other side exclaimed followed by locks chinking out of place. The door was threw open, revealing a guy who had a giant toothy smile. "Well, shit aren't you a sight for sore eyes."

"Hey Marvel, it's good to see you too," Cato replied. He entered the room and kicked the door shut behind him. Upstairs was a lot bigger than down, the wooden floorboards and white walls making the room seem larger than it really was.

"Is this the poor sod Glimmer is going to tear apart?" Marvel asked.

"Well, it's who Glimmer _wants_ to tear apart but _won't_," Cato answered. "Unless she wants her cervix ripped out with a pair of plyers."

Peeta shuddered. He remembered when Cato used to say things like that when they were together. He used to always say that sort of stuff when he got mad or was upset. It was something Peeta hoped Cato would grow out of . . . but he obviously hadn't . . . Urgh, some of the stuff he used to come out with were sadistic and cruel. Peeta never realized that maybe some of the stuff Cato came out with came from a perverse background. Until now, that is.

Marvel, however, laughed as if the threat was funny. "I'd like to see you try," he said. "However, the District 2 shipment did send some pretty wicked weapons." He tilted his head and frowned at the way Peeta's arms were behind his back. "Ropes or cuffs?" he asked.

"Cuffs," Cato said. "He squirms too much so ropes would chafe too much."

"Are you sure that's the answer or it's just you wanting to get kinky?" Marvel wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Peeta was horrified, the want to rip his wrists apart and break the cuffs increasing with every passing second. Cato chuckled and pulled his captive close, holding tighter when he tried to to pull away.

"Trust me," he said, "if I were doing this to be kinky, I wouldn't need to go through all this trouble to get him into the cuffs."

Peeta felt a 'fuck you' forcing its way up his throat but he swallowed it, knowing that it would only make the situation much more dire. He sealed his mouth shut and let Cato drag him further into the room without much complaint. He needed to save his energy for self-defence anyway.

"Man, this place hasn't changed a bit," Cato said as he looked around. He sounded nostalgic.

_Well, it has been five years,_ Peeta supposed.

A girl was sitting cross-legged ontop of a long black leather table, a device that looked like a mechanical pen in her hand. It looked like she was buzzing something onto her arm with it. Jesus, was she tattooing herself?! "Cato, you little shit, where have you been hiding?" she asked, not looking up from her work. "Glimmer came back the moment she got out."

For some reason, Glimmer had been granted parole five months before Cato. Peeta didn't really wish to find out why but it seemed very odd, since they were both convicted of the same crime.

"So how did she do it?" Cato asked. "Who did she screw?"

"Her parole officer and the witness," the girl mumbled. She looked up, her green eyes piercing. "At the same time."

Okay, so _that_ was how . . .

"So is this the fabulous boyfriend you were always telling us about?" the girl asked.

"Ex," Peeta found himself saying before he really thought about it. The girl raised her eyebrows and Cato hit him upside the head. Suprisingly hard, actually.

"Yes it is," he answered. "Peeta, this is Clove."

Oh, so this girl was Clove. The one who arranged the gun for Cato . . .

Clove looked at Cato with a serious expression. "You do realize that Glimmer is going to have his balls for earrings if she gets her hands on him, don't you?" she asked.

"Well aware," Cato said. "And she'll pay for it if she does anything severe."

"There's nothing you can do to stop her from savouring the inciation," Marvel pointed out. He was cleaning a blade, the sight of the metal glinting making a shiver jitter down Peeta's spine. How many people had that blade hurt? Been _killed_? "She already knows what she wants to do."

"Although I kind of have a hunch that you wouldn't let him get raped with a sword," Clove pointed out.

Peeta's eyes widened and he looked at Cato to take in his reaction. Not even a flicker of shock or horror. "Yeah Cato, you wouldn't let me get raped by a sword, _would you_?" he demanded.

"Calm down, I wouldn't," Cato sighed.

Oh thank god.

Cato leaned forward and took the tattoo pen off Clove and looked at her arm. She had been inking a floral pattern into her skin. "When did we get the tattoo set-up?" he asked.

Clove shrugged. "We had a generous donation for a benefactor who will remain nameless-"

"_Seneca Crane_," Marvel coughed.

"_Anyway_, it was my turn to decide what we did with the money," Clove explained. "So I bought tattoo equipment."

"Didn't you want a tattoo?" Cato asked Peeta.

"Well, yeah, but not anymore." When Peeta and Cato were dating for about a year, he _had_ been considering getting a tattoo. Maybe on his arm or ankle or something. But he eventually grew out of the idea, deciding it was tacky. In fact, the buzzing of the tattoo pen was so unnerving Peeta found himself leaning away from Cato and the pen.

"I've got an idea."

All that followed the voice was the clicking of heels against hardwood floor. Peeta vaguely recognized the voice, and he prayed to God it wasn't who he thought it was. Judging by popular opinion, she wasn't going to take kindly to his presence here. He glanced at Cato, who didn't seem bothered and was examining the mechanics of the tattoo pen.

Glimmer appeared at the top of the room, having come from a door that Peeta hadn't noticed. She didn't look like she had just been released from prison, or maybe she went straight from there to the salon. She looked like a pristine porcelin doll, like if you tapped her with your finger, she'd shatter.

When her eyes fell on Cato and Peeta, they narrowed in what could only be described as how a lion would gaze upon its prey before an attack. Cato glanced at her momentarily, but still didn't seem bothered. Glimmer walked over to them and snatched the tattoo pen out of his hands. "Since I can't use your sword to violently violate your boyfriend because you've always been a pussy when it comes to him, at least let me do the inciation," she said.

"It depends on what the inciation is," Cato answered cautiously. Never had the word inciation ever felt as disturbing to Peeta as it did right now. The only time he had ever heard of it before was in gory gangster films where the main character had to suffer through an inciation to get into the group. The inciations were normally sadistic, evil, maybe even a bit satanic. It made him worry about what Glimmer-a girl who he had accidentally put into prison for five years-had planned for his.

"Glimmer," Marvel said, dragging her name out in a sultry tone, "wants to tramp stamp your boyfriend."

"She wants to _what_?" Peeta exclaimed.

"He's very innocuous," Cato whispered. "He doesn't know what a tramp stamp is."

"I could do!" Peeta protested. What was a tramp stamp and why did Glimmer want to give him one? It obviously wasn't a good thing if she wanted to do it to him but how bad was it, exactly?

"Actually," Cato grabbed his elbow and trailed his eyes up and down Peeta reverently, "I think you might suit some ink."

"Hold on, _ink_? This involves _ink_?" Peeta exclaimed. No way was he letting Glimmer ink something onto him. Something that would be there _permanantly_.

"I don't think he'd suit it, I just think it would be wonderfully fun to do," Clove put forward. "We've never tattooed someone before, I think it would be a rivoting experience."

"Yeah, but what?" Marvel asked.

"What about Cato's career logo?" Clove suggested. "Like a sign of ownership or something?"

"_What_?! No way!" Peeta wasn't normally one to yell at people he barely knew but they were actually discussing the possibility of tattooing Cato's career logo (whatever the hell that was) onto him as a 'tramp stamp'.

"I actually quite like that idea," Cato said, ignoring the 'eat shit' glare he received from Peeta because of it. "I mean, it's the best way to show people who you belong to. Plus who would go after a guy with a tramp stamp?"

"What is a tramp stamp?!" Peeta yelled, perplexed and frustrated.

Instead of answering, Cato pushed him into the bed as Clove slid off. "I swear to God Glimmer, if you divert off the logo and to try to tattoo a dick or something I will shave off all your hair in your sleep."

"Calm down Cato, as long as I'm causing pain I don't care," Glimmer muttered. Clove showed her how to switch on the tattoo pen and readied a small cup of black ink.

"Cato, you're not tattooing me!" Peeta shouted, thrashing against the cuffs and pushing back against Cato as he held him down on the table. "Isn't this going a little bit far?"

This seemed amusing to the four careers. They burst out laughing, as if he had said something hilarious. "Oh kid, you're going to get some shocks if you think that _this_ is too far," Marvel chuckled. "How soft is too soft for you Cato?"

"Yeah, I never took you for someone who'd get turned on by sissies," Clove added.

"Obviously not," Glimmer muttered, tapping the pen as if checking it working properly. "It must be some 'I don't like sissies, but for _him_ I'd do anything' shit."

"Go suck a lemon Glimmer," Cato replied. Peeta became desperate as he realized that they weren't kidding when they said they were going to ink something onto his body to be there forever. Where did a tramp stamp go? Would it be anywhere people would see? Oh god, this was actually happening, they were actually going to _tattoo_ him!

Cato grabbed the back of his neck and pushed his face into the leather bed. "Just relax and think of England," he said, pulling his arms up above his head and pushing his shirt up a little bit. Peeta took one last feeble attempt at escaping, squirming incessantly and kicking at Cato behind him. He couldn't believe what was about to happen. "Remember the threat Glimmer, I will not think twice about buzzing those goldie locks off until you're bald."

"Whatever dickwad," Glimmer replied.

Struggling seemed pointless at this point and Peeta took to telling himself that a career logo probably wasn't going to be that noticable, would maybe be a small thing that he could hide for the rest of his life. Then again, Cato didn't look like he was going to let go of him anytime soon so it wouldn't matter who saw it.

The tattoo itself felt like something was scratching along the skin of his lower back. It didn't hurt as much as it was happening but burned afterwards, almost like a horrific sunburn. On one hand, Peeta did not want to be seen as anymore of a wimp in the career's eyes than he already did, but on the other he wanted to be as difficult as possible, so he screamed as loud as he could, until his throat was raw and felt like it was bleeding.

It took him until it was nearly finished for him to realize that the Careers were probably used to screaming and didn't give a damn about it. Well, hopefully he was just getting on their nerves.

"Aw, are you in pain baby?" Cato asked in a patronizing voice when Glimmer finished with an overexaggerated sigh.

"Shut up!" Peeta snapped, irritated and pissed off. He felt like he had been forced into a sunbed for five hours and was now suffering the aftermath of the burn on his back.

"Do you want to have a look at it?"

"No, I don't!"

They stuck something over the burning skin and Cato let go of him, giving Peeta the room to stand up again. Peeta glared at him furiously, severely angry that he now basically had a brand of owner ship on his lower back! A tramp stamp or whatever they called it.

"Well that was fun!" Glimmer said, throwing the pen carelessly onto the leather bed. "I'm still not completely satisified but we're all still young and inciation isn't over-"

"That wasn't the inciation?!" Peeta was horrified that that wasn't it. What else were they planning to put him through?! He found little comfort in Cato, who had reassured him earlier that he wasn't going to let them do anything sexual, because violence still seemed to be a major contributing factor to these people's lifestyles.

Cato put a hand on his shoulder and sighed. "If only it were that easy."

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Peeta snapped back. "You just violated my skin and marked it permanantly and you're planning to do more to me?!" He almost blurted out _What did I ever do to you!_ but he swallowed it because he knew rightly what he had done. He had accidentally ratted out two of the people currently in the room and gotten them arrested and put in prison for five years and probably almost got the entire gang exposed. He was lucky he hadn't been killed by now. "What else could you possibly do?!"

Glimmer scowled and whipped her hair over her shoulder. She took a step forward but stopped when Cato gave her a warning look. Trying to be defiant, Peeta stared back at her without flinching or showing fear. "What else can we do?" she asked, sounding offended. "I know how to remove a person's fingernails slowly so that it rips every piece of skin off the fingers as it goes. Or I can insert razors and wires underneath the nails and pull until you scream."

"Of course there's also traditional whippings," Clove pointed out. "Beatings, burning, branding."

"There's also that technique where you dislocate a person's shoulders by tying them to a high stable object and lowering it until you snap," Marvel added. "Which can also cause broken ribs and punctured lungs."

"I also think I'd savour strapping you to a waterboard and stuffing a wet cloth into your mouth so that it feels like you're drowning," Glimmer said, her voice frighteningly low.

"You wouldn't need to go through the trouble of the waterboard. He can't swim, just throw him into the deep end of the swimming pool at the leisure plex," Cato explained. Peeta was forcing himself to stay calm, smorthering that part of him that wanted to scream again and try to run for his life, even though he'd get caught moments later.

"Anyway, enough torture ideas, is my room the way I left it?" Cato asked.

"Who would dare go in there anyway?" Clove snickered. "Other than your _prisoners_."

"Prisoners?" Peeta looked at Cato skeptically. What did she mean by prisoners?

"Yeah, we used to think he was sexing them to death," Glimmer sneered.

"Sex . . . ing them?"

"Not everyone sleeps around to get what they want like you," Cato threw back. Glimmer narrowed her eyes and flipped him off. Cato simply threw back an ruder hand gesture that Peeta pretended he didn't see. "Right, I'm going into my room, don't disturb me unless you want to be strung up and shot."

"I want that gun back by the way Cato," Clove said.

"Sure, whatever," Cato replied. He took Peeta's arm and started to pull him in the direction of another set of stairs. When he tried to pull his arm away, it only made Cato hold tighter.

"Have fun!" Marvel called.

"Will do!" Cato called back.

"Wait," Peeta tried to pull back, dig his heels into the ground, but Cato's strength won out and he just got dragged uselessly along behind him, "have fun with what?"

Cat smirked. "You'll see."

That did not sound good.

**A/N: Please R&R with your thoughts! :D**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Guys, I know some of you have already seen what's been recently posted on my profile but I would like to explain it in further detail at the end of this chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

**Warnings: Unconsented touching, sadistic thoughts, etc. etc.**

**Chapter Four**

The first time they had had sex, Cato had been gentle. He had been caring and thorough and put Peeta first, since he had been a virgin at the time. Peeta still remembered curling his fingers into the mattress covers, the smell of fresh laundry as he had buried his face into Cato's pillow to muffle his moans. His lover had caressed his bare body tenderly, shushing him when he whimpered in pain. It seemed like a completely different Cato to the one Peeta was with now.

After that first time . . . sure, things got a little rough. But who isn't wild and feral in the bedroom? Not every time is romantic love making. Cato could go on all night and Peeta eventually adapted, able to go all night as well. To say their relationship was extremely physical was an understatement. Sex was Cato's weapon and he used it very well.

The physical aspect of their past relationship was going to be the downfall of his perdicament now, Peeta could sense it. With two wrists cuffed to the headboard of Cato's bed, all he could really do was stare at the ceiling until his ex came back from whatever the hell he was doing. And there were no prizes to guess what he was going to do when he got back.

Peeta was fighting an internal battle. His weaker, forgiving side was glad to see Cato again, wanted to fall into his arms and do whatever he told him to. A part of him that was desperate, wanted to subcumb to Cato's charms greatly. That part of Peeta that fell in love with Cato so quickly it was scary. Thankfully, the part of him that had more sense was able to smother his submissive trait. And this part of him increased every single time the tattoo on his back screamed in pain.

Peeta was able to at least attempt to get the keys that Cato left on a shelf by the bed, just out of reach so that he would be tempted to try and get them. When staring at the ceiling got a bit old hat, Peeta started trying to get the keys down, his double jointed limbs able to twist around just right so that he could stretch up and try and get the keys to freedom down with his foot.

The amount of times the toe of his sneakers nearly touched the keys was astronomically frustrating. Peeta groaned in annoyance when he missed for what felt like the thousandth time and took a moment to recollect his thoughts and try and think of a better way to go about doing it.

"How did I know that you'd try and get the keys down?"

"I don't know, instinct?" Peeta muttered, not even bothering to look in Cato's direction as he tried again.

"Well, Marvel owes me ten quid. He said you wouldn't bother," Cato said. "And I told him, 'Marv, Peeta has been doing gymnastics since he was able to walk and, judging by where I left the keys, he is definitely going to try and get them down.'"

"Well congratulations, you made ten quid," Peeta replied snarkily. His foot missed the keys again and he swore. "Goddamnit Cato, this is ridiculous!"

Cato chuckled darkly. "You used to like it when I got the cuffs out," he said. "What's changed?"

"Well, let's see, you were arrested; you've basically kidnapped me; given me a _tramp stamp_; I'm sorry if I don't get giddy at the sight of cuffs," Peeta snapped angrily. "I swear Cato, I'm going to rip you apart as soon as I get free!"

His ex snickered. "I'd love to see you try."

"So help me God Cato, I _will_ try and don't underestimate the power of a pissed off captive!" Peeta kicked the shelf and the keys tinkled, almost teasingly. Cato laughed, the sound dripping in condescendition. He went to the shelf and picked the keys off, jingling them in his hand. Peeta scowled. "You're going to hell," he snapped.

"Yeah, yeah, tell me something I don't know," Cato replied. Peeta kicked the keys out of Cato's hand. They soared across the room and hit the opposite wall, bumping at the skirting board as they fell to the floor. It was a pointless action that didn't achieve anything but it felt good to kick Cato, even if it was just his wrist. Cato himself raised his eyebrows, impressed. "Still fiesty as ever then, I see," he said.

"Yeah, fiesty and pissed off do _not_ mix," Peeta snapped. He knew Cato was trying to get him angry and he shouldn't take the bait but it was _so hard_ not to.

"What are you going to do?" Cato teased. "Struggle until you're exhausted?" He climbed onto the bed and sat on Peeta's hips to pin him to the bed. He took in Peeta's resentful expression. "Oh come on, what's with the daggers? You're still going with the whole outraged thing? I thought we'd be past that by now."

"We're never going to be past that!" Peeta exclaimed. "You can't just wave your magic wand and make things better."

Cato leaned forward and pressed a kiss against his lips. "Are you sure about that?" he asked. He slowly grinded his hips down and grinned when Peeta shut his eyes and bit his lip.

"Sorry, I should rephrase," his captive groaned, "you can't just wave your magic dick and make things better."

"True," Cato replied. "But it makes things so much more fun, don't you think?"

Peeta rolled his eyes. "Oddles," he said sarcastically.

Cato quirked an eyebrow and purred, "I remember a time when all I had to do was look at you and you'd be turned on."

"Hey, I was on anti-depressants then and and you know it," Peeta said defensively. "That was drugs, not a fucking miracle stare. You always take responsibility for things that are nothing to do with you-" Cato kissed him again, the action filled with so much power and ferocity that it took Peeta's breath away.

"It may have been the drugs but it takes something that arouses your senses to get the sex drive to kick in," he replied arrogantly. "And you just knew from that stare that I was about to fuck you hard."

"Oh yeah and I was swooning at your feet as usual," Peeta said sarcastically.

Cato kissed and nipped at his neck, finding all the sensitive areas without even trying. It felt like the old days, the days where Cato wasn't a criminal and he wasn't insane and their relationship was just normal. On some mornings, Cato used to wake up Peeta up by biting a sensitive piece of skin under his jaw. It worked every time and never really got old.

"There was a time where I knew every curve and crevice of your body more than I knew about my own," Cato murmured against his skin. "I don't know anything about how well memory serves after five years but I'm pretty determined to find out what I remember is correct."

Peeta shivered. He didn't like the sound of that. "Why don't you ask and I'll answer?"

"But finding out for myself is so much more fun," Cato whined.

"Just _ask_."

Cato pursed his lips, trying to think about his first question. "Did you miss me?"

Peeta stared. "_What_?"

"When I was in prison, did you miss me?"

_Of course I did._ "Maybe a little."

Cato grinned, truimphant. "Was I right?" he asked.

"About . . . what?"

"When I said that you still touch yourself at night because your life has been sexless for five years now." Cato sat back and quirked an interested eyebrow. Peeta squinted and sealed his mouth shut, refusing to answer. "Because you definitely did it when we were together and you were getting plenty of sex then."

Peeta scowled and squirmed around, trying to unseat Cato from his lap. "I'm not answering that, stop being a pervert and ask something decent."

"So I'm taking that as a yes," Cato smirked.

"No!"

"So you don't then?"

Peeta fumbled for a response. "Of course not." He knew it sounded like a lie immediately and knew that Cato knew this too.

Cato groaned. "Ohhh god, baby, why are you always so sexy, even when you're not trying to be?" he asked. "I actually took a leaf out of your book and used to think of you at night when I was in bed. I told my cell mates about you, just to keep my mind occupied."

"Wait, you told _criminals_ about me? What did you say?!" Peeta exclaimed.

"Not much. Just that you were my boyfriend, that I missed you very much, that you were inhumanly attractive-"

"That's 'not much'?!"

Cato laughed. "You sound mad. I guess it's the wrong time to say that I told them enough that they told their friends and their friends' friends. I think the prisoners know you as the Golden Boy or something? It only took five months for your picture to become a kind of instrument of self pleasure . . . I'm sorry, really, I didn't mean for it to go that far."

"Where the fuck did prisoners get my picture?!" Peeta shouted. Did criminals really have nothing better to do with their lives?!

"My fault, again, I admit," Cato confessed. "I was allowed one personal object in my cell. A token, if you will, and I chose a picture of you . . . One of my cellmates found it and stole it. If it's any concelation, I beat the guy with the headboard of my bed but by that point the photo had been passed around like a bong around high school students."

"Is that supposed to be _comforting_?!" Now a bunch of criminals knew about him and used his picture as an aid to furfilling their sickening desires?

"It's not my fault they were able to see how hot you are," Cato said defensively. "I mean, it was the picture of that time you were wearing those jeans that were tighter than they really should have been. You know, the ones I bought you? I got the sizing wrong but you wore them anyway. 'It's the thought that counts, Cato. It was an honest mistake.'"

Oh yeah . . . Peeta remembered that photo. Cato used to have it on his bedside table in a wooden frame. The jeans were a gift for his twentith birthday and Cato _had_ gotten the sizing wrong and they were a bit small but it had been an honest mistake, so Peeta hadn't held it against him. Cato had taken the picture when they went to the pier that evening. He was sitting on the pier railing and looked back at Cato just as he took the photo. It seemed harmless at the time. Peeta hadn't known that that picture was going to get passed around by criminals to touch themselves to.

"Oh god Cato, why," Peeta moaned.

"What? You should take it as a compliment!"

"Cato, they're _prisoners,_ they'd shag a goldfish if they thought they could get off on it!"

"Keep talking like that and I mightn't be able to control my _lust_ for you," Cato purred, rolling the word 'lust' on his tongue. Cato grinded down into Peeta's lap again, the action sending shoots of electricity through the younger boy's being. Peeta groaned, welding his eyes shut. God, it felt good. "You like that?"

"No."

"Liar, I know you like it." Cato sounded so self-satisfied, Peeta wanted to punch him. He ground down harder and silenced his captive's moan with a kiss. He licked the cupid's bow of the younger boy's top lip-the way he knew he liked-and took his bottom lip into his mouth.

Peeta's eyes fluttered, the arousal he felt building up inside him growing. He was unable to resist lifting his hips, meeting Cato as he continued to thrust against him. He always knew this was inevitable. He was going to fall for Cato's charm and be unable to resist his touch, like the little whore he was. Five years was a long time to last without sex and it was nice to feel hands on him again.

Cato was pleased with Peeta's reaction to him and let his hands slip underneath his shirt to feel his skin. It was still as soft and warm as he remembered, his body still incapable of growing excess hair. "I wonder, are your nipples still sensitive," he mumbled to himself. His fingers found the rosy peaks and he pinched them, grinning when Peeta gasped loudly and ripped his face away from him.

"Fuck you Cato," Peeta snapped angrily, "get your hands off me!"

"Shut up and just enjoy it."

"No, I will not!"

Cato rolled his eyes and grabbed Peeta's throat, tightening his hand just enough so that the air squeezed out of his lungs. "Either you let me do as I fucking want to or I will bring Marvel in here and let him keep you quiet. Trust me, he has the most unorthadox ways of doing it too."

"Cato please, you don't have to do this," Peeta choked. He took a large breath to try and get even the tiniest pieces of air into him. "Why are you being so hor-horrible?"

"Aww baby, I'm not being horrible, I'm taking back what's mine," Cato answered.

"I don't belong to you!" Peeta yelled. His voice was rough and cracked.

Cato slipped his hand around Peeta's back and dug his fingers into the bandage covering the tattoo, grinning when Peeta screamed in pain. It burned so bad . . . like a hot poker was being pressed against his back. "I think the stamp says otherwise."

"The stamp was an involuntary violation of my rights to my own body," Peeta said, frowning at how political he sounded. Cato actually had the gall to laugh. "You're going to rot in hell, Cato."

"If I'm going to rot in hell, you're going to rot there with me," Cato said. "Because that's where all the bad little boys go, they run straight to hell." Before he could take in Peeta's disgusted expression, he claimed his lips again and kissed him viciously. Peeta ripped his face away from him and spat on the floor.

"You're disgusting," Peeta hissed.

"And you're sexy," Cato replied, taking his breath away with another kiss. "And I'm not letting you go now that I've got you in my clutches."

Somehow, Peeta knew he wasn't lying.

**A/N: ****Hiatus Explanation**

**Currently I am experiencing some trouble at home and don't have time to write. All my stories will now be on official pause until at least the summer or in June when my exams are over. I really hope you guys are okay with it and will still be willing to read my work when I come back.**

**Thank you.**

**~Cupcake**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Sorry this is short guys but it's just a teaser for what's to come, really. I've been trying to get back on the horse with all my stories but I'm finding it extremely difficult so just bear with me, okay? :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

**Chapter Five**

"Hands."

"Sorry?"

"Move your_ hands_."

Cato smirked. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were uncomfortable," he said cheekily. In reality, he had thought that Peeta had been asleep, and it took a lot to smother the part of him that jumped out of his skin when he spoke up.

"You _know_ that I'm uncomfortable," Peeta muttered. "Get your hands off my ass."

"Why? Last I checked, you were my property," Cato replied arrogantly. He grinned and pecked Peeta's forehead, ignoring the face he pulled in disgust. "It's time for bed anyway."

"I suppose it's wishful thinking to hope you won't be sleeping with me tonight?" asked Peeta.

"Very wishful," answered Cato. He got off the bed and started untying Peeta's shoelaces. Peeta half expected him to be rough but was surprised when his ex gently pulled the shoes off his feet. Peeta focused on the carpet, refusing to meet Cato's eyes. "Can I ask something?"

"Depends on whether it's decent or just a sexual innuendo," Peeta answered.

"Why haven't the Witness Protection Programme come after me?"

Peeta frowned. What an odd question to ask. "I told them there was nothing to worry about and they believed me," he explained. "I suppose it was sort of idiotic of them. And of me, too, since I was foolish enough to have faith in you and think that you would leave me alone."

Cato looked almost hurt for a moment. But it was basically just a flicker before it was gone again. Peeta tried to ignore it. Ignore the way he felt immediately guilty for hurting Cato; ignore that portion of himself that just wanted his ex to hold him again; that ball of warmth that heated his insides whenever he laid eyes on Cato . . . He wanted to ignore it all.

"Still don't wear socks with your sneakers I see," said Cato as he set the shoes down on the floor.

"I was busy this morning and didn't have a chance to," Peeta muttered.

Cato rolled his eyes. "Your skin is all blistered . . . You have to find time to do these little things because you don't know what the knock on effect will be."

"Why do you care?" asked Peeta.

"You know why I care," Cato muttered. He kicked his own shoes off and got back into bed beside Peeta. The younger boy was too tired to pull away and just slumped back against the headboard. "Do you want me to take your pants off?"

"You're joking, right?"

"No, I'm serious. I just remember that you don't like sleeping with your jeans on . . ." Cato sat up straight and made a cross on his chest. "I won't be inappropriate, I promise." Peeta eyed him wearily. He didn't like sleeping with his jeans on because he bruised like a banana and the denim chafed his skin.

"How can I trust you?"

"Because you know that I don't cross my heart over any old promise."

Peeta did know this. The only time Cato had ever crossed his heart in the time they were together was when . . . was when he told him he loved him . . . "Fine. But if you step out of line I will not think twice about kicking your teeth in."

"Gotcha," Cato replied. Peeta tried not to flinch away when Cato flicked open the button on his pants and peeled them off his legs. It felt like Cato was trying to intimidate him by going slowly but there was no point in trying to point it out as even if he was he didn't see anything that could be accomplished from doing so. "Blanket on or off?"

"On."

"Are you sure, it's quite warm-"

"_On._"

Cato rolled his eyes and shrugged. "Suit yourself." He was right, it was warm, but Peeta didn't trust his ex enough to fall asleep in the same bed as him half naked. Cato threw the blanket over him and sat on the edge of the bed. "I can't stand you treating me like this."

Peeta's eyebrows furrowed as he regarded Cato with a frown. "Like what? Like you kidnapped me? Because, newsflash, you have!"

Cato was acting almost sheepish, fiddling with his fingers. "I do love you, you know that, right? All this, it's for your own good."

"How . . . That doesn't even make sense . . ." Peeta couldn't even find the words.

"It's for your own good," Cato repeated, as if he was trying to assure himself of it as well. "Because I love you . . . And I'm not letting you go, ever again."

**A/N: Again, sorry about how short this is. I'm not extremely happy with this chapter but I wanted to get something out to you guys anyhow.**

**Please R&R! :D**


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